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VERNflCUWR VEBSB. 



NEW YOIJK ; 

M. DooLADY, 98 Nassau Street 

1873. 




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3UH»*IIM»MU«Mttil(tUillll»lil»tlUUIUItUIMIIIIIMUa8aaC2«iil<liaiilMi(t<ii«UllMlillMr !<***• 

MY RERLICION. 



^if-^ttl Htlfi 



IN 



Vernacular^ Yei^e. 




(BY MAJO(k JE(? JOSLYJ7J7, 

ILLUSTRATED BY BONAR. 



NEW YORK: 

MI. r>OOLA.T>Y, OS Nassau Street. 

1873. 







-•y^\^-f^^ %^N, 



Entered according lO act of Congress, in the year 1873, 

BY J. E. P. DOYLE, 

In the Ofi&ce of the Librarian of Congress, at "Washington. 



Author's Preface. 



The author of this little volume, in presenting it for the 
amusement of the reader, and the criticism of his co-la- 
borers on the press, feels it proper that he should state 
the circumstances of its production. While serving as a 
staff officer with Sherman's army in North Carolina, often 
has he listened for hours to the recitals of adventures on 
the part of the Tar-Heel refugees from the pineries, who 
crowded our camps in search of food. Having studied 
with interest the habits and quaint dialect of this poor, 
but honest class, the author has created Major Jep Jos- 
lynn, and permitted him to weave some of these " Tales" 
into verse. The incident described in " The Buzzin' Bees 
ol Berks' were actually witnessed by him while on the 
advance of Hambright's brigade of the Fourteenth corps, 
assisting in the prevention of pillage. Two or three of 
these Tales have been published in the press over Major 
Joslynn's signature. With these explanations the author 
will take a back seat and request silence from pit to dome 
while the veracious Tar-Heel entertains you with his 
Vernacular Verses. 



HORACE GREELEY. 



By Jep Joslynn. 

Hush ! a nation's pulse stands still ! 
Through it is flashed a thrill 

Of genuine grief ' 
Grief for the Great and Good — 
Grief for the one who stood 

In strong relief, 
And half a century braved 
Opinion for the enslaved, 
To find his name engraved 

On Life's clear leaf ! 

A rustic child of ours, 

Who in Green Mountain bowers 

Was born to earth, 
Attained a giant life 
'Mid scenes of bitter strife 

That prov'd his worth 1 
And, dying, leaves behind him. 
In hearts that have enshrined him 
Affection's links that bind him 

To every hearth ! 

Let the solemn church bell toll 
For the passing of a soul 

To peaceful rest : 
Let tender tears be shed 
For the illust'rous dead 

Who's hand we've prest 4 
For hearts to-day are riven — 
A Light went out at even 
To glow anew in Heaven 

Among the Blest ! 

— New York Evening Telegram. 



To 

FREDERIC HUDSON, 

THE TALENTED JOURNALIST AND COURTEOUS GENTLEMAN, WHOSE 

FRATERNAL INTEREST IN YOUNG WRITERS, AND WHOSE 

CONSIDERATE AND PATIENT TREATMENT OP ALL WITH 

WHOM HE HAS HAD BUSINESS RELATIONS, HAVE 

ENDEARED HIM TO THEM, THIS VOLUME IS 

DEDICATED, BY HIS LATE SUBORDINATE AND SINCERE ADMIRER, 

ffee giutljor. 



CONTENTS, 



PAGE. 

The Curse of Pedekgogue Scott 9 

Bob Munn of Cape Cod 14 

My Eerligion 24 

Little Boots 32 

The Buzzin' Bees of Berks 39 

That Little Black Pet of Our'n 49 

Old Tom Gin 57 

The Sign of Joe Ball 06 



ILLUSTRATIONS- 

Planting the Thistles 13 

Bob Munn's Transfiguration 21 

Deacon Sparling's Devotion 26 

The Tar Heel's Betuen 35 

A Mule's Baptism 46 

Jonah's Landlord 50 







:y\^ 




f HE fuRSE OF ^JeDERGOGUE fcOTT, 



HAT'S a question I don't like ter speak of: 
* How these pesky thistles come here ; 
But, boys, if ye will listen attentervely, 
I will breathe a strenge tale in yer ear. 

But afore I bergin I would warn ye, 

Ye may fix yer faces ter blush ; 
So jist let thar be silence all around 

And I'll spin the yarn with a rush. 



10 The Cukse of Pkdekgogue Scott. 

Ha ! ha ! ha ! I larf when I think of it — 

The days when a youngster I sat 
On a rough pine bench in the lorg school house, 

And din'd orf the rim of my hat ! 

The other boys war bigger than I war, 
And studied thar lesson right well, 

"While I ermus'd myself as I wish'd ter 
In quar tricks on which I'll not dwell. 

I war ter young ter learn my letters, — 
They let me 'tend school for all that ; 

And then when I run short of ermusement 
I jerk'd at the tail of the cat ! 

As I increas'd in years and mischief, 

Sich as hazin' our neighbor's pig, 
Pourin' ink on the floor, or applyin' 

Powder'd chalk ter the master's wig — 



The Cuksk of Pedeegogue Scott. h 

Eicliard Scott— that war the pedergogue's name— 

Declared in wrath he'd be killin' 
Me, if I did not be quiet and sit 

Bert ween ter gak — I war willin' ! 

Young as I war I lik'd that ye may swar 

On the hilts of yer bowie knives ; 
And though but eight years I bergun ter sigh 

For a plurality of wives ! 

Now, Tip Tracey, ye may smile over thar 

At the picter I've painted you ; 
But that gal-punershment of Kichard Scott 

War a pleasure ter them gals, too ! 

By-an'-by I had master'd my letters, 

And bergun on my h i hVs ; 
From that I prergress'd to somethin' better— 

Admirin' my companions' eyes. 



1 2 The Cukse of Pedebgogue Scott. 

!Nearly every day I got the ferule 

Jist for winkiii' at Sue Minals ; 
But very soon I had so far prergress'd 

I war plighted ter sev'ral gals ! 

I Iiad not been ter school quite a twelvemonth 
When I'd whal'd each boy in the class, 

Kiss'd and hugg'd every gal, eaten Scott's lunch. 
And ten rivals had sent ter grass ! 

I put toads in Scott's pockets, and dead mice 

Scatter'd everywhar in his desk, 
Till he froth'd at the mouth in his madness, 

And cuss'd me for a little pest. 

All this tuk place over in Canada, 

"Whar my gov'ner had gone ter preach 

The Gospel of Jesus ter them sinners,. 
As successor ter Elder Beech. 



The Cukse of Pedekgogue Scott. 



13 



But don't tire at th' iengtli of my story : 
I'm drawin' erlong ter the close, 

Wliar 1 gather'd the seeds that have hlarsted, 
And fiird a whoie nation with woes. 




One day when I'd been worse than usual — 
Put snuff in the master's whistle- 

Old Scott luk me out berhind the rear wall^ 
And sot me down on a thistle ! 



14 The Curse op Pedkkgogue Scott. 

An hour and a half he held me thar, 
While the barbs pen'trated the skin ! 

Havin' planted the crop, the pedergogue, 
With my trousers harrer'd it in ! 

That harrerin' event I can't forget, 
For it fairly set me rantin': 

1 wood not car'd had the agricult'rist 
Chosen higher soil ter plant in ! 

But that war cruel, and for months I felt 
Them bull thistle seeds takin' root, 

And creepin' about in the tender flesh 
From hat crown ter toe of my boot. 

After that I went back on old Dick Scott, 
And lit out for York State ye bet ; 

But each Spring I war sowin' the thistles, 
'No rest auywhar could I get. 



The Curse of Pedeegogue Scott. 15 

I have toted them thistles all over, 

And planted 'em in every field, 
Whar I've halted ter rest ; but dog on it ! 

Thar seems a ter bonnterful yield ! 

Now, neighbors, that is a right true story 

I've told ye, and is it not queer 
That I cannot get shut of 'em ? That is 

How Canada thistles reached here ! 

So whenever ye cut down yer thistles 
Don't cuss me ter strong. May I rot 

In a roadside ditch if I can help it ! 
They are the curse of Richard Scott ! 



Job ^IfuNN OF 



,APE mOD. 



JllJBEELIEYE it's comceeded on all sides 
rfllThat of all tlie cute bipeds made 

Since tlie world war created, tlie Yankee 
Allers gets the best in a trade ! 

It's a boast that no race can match 'em 

Jn expedients sm^e ter win : 
And all others must get np right early 

If thej would n't be tai%en in ! 



Bob Munn of Cape Cod. 17 

As a proof of this ere declaration 

They tell of one up at Cape Cod, 
"Wlio's so all-fir'd smart he endeavored 

Ter play a trump kerd at his God ! 

He's a fisherman by occerpation, 

Is this feller they call Bob Munn ; 
And ter dry his fish he ask'd mandamus 

Ter sercure more light from the sun ! 

The court would not listen ter the motion, 
But this action did not appall : 

He fix'd up a merchine ter uterlize 
The rerfulgent rays of old Sol. 

With powerful glasses he center'd 

The rays on his cargoes of cod, 
And chuckl'd right smart at his success 

In stealin' the smiles of his God ! 



8 Bob Munn of Cape Cod. 

For a time his merchine work'd ter a charm, 
And his sackerlege war endur'd ; 

While his rivals in trade war astonish'd 
At the man J quintals he cur'd. 

But Bob Munn, he grew bold in his averice, 
And the splendid march he had stole 

Upon his Creator and his rivals. 
E'en at the expense of his soul. 

He had read in the Scripters of Lot's wife 
Who ter salt war chang'd in a night, 

As a punershment for diserbedience 
And exercizin' wimin's right — 

(A right ter pry inter other's affa'rs 
By evesdroppin' if she's inclin'd, 

For which each one of 'em should be treated 
As Lot's mistress what look'd berhind.) 



Bob Munn of Cape Cod. 

But, endin' he aposterphe, I must 
Eeturn ter the exploits of Munn, 

Who ignor'd the bounty of Jerhover, 
And corntiner'd ter steal the sun ! 

The story of Lot's wife impress'd him 

With a more avericious wish — 
The diskivery of arter-fish-al means 

For ter salt his catches of fish. 

On the sliores of Cape Cod in them days 

Many old maids sigh'd alone 
Tor the lips of a man ter caress 'em, 

And the means ter sercure a home. 

They had been doom'd ter sore diserpointment, 
The girlish bloom had diserpear'd, 

Leavin' a shad-er of thar lost beauty 
On the features so dry and sear'd. 



19 



20 Bob Mdnn of Cape Cod. 

Bob Munn, he long ponder'd on the subject 

Of testin' that ere recerpe, 
What work'd ter a charm at old Gomorrer, 

And set a poor hen-peck'd man free ! 

God had smil'd upon his undertakin's, 
And he felt he might tempt him still, 

With a more ingenious expererment, 
Ter bring a fresh grist ter his mill. 

Then he sent out many invertations — 
Corlected tlie maids at his board, 

And while they war gossippin' o'er thar tea 
In his chamber he ask'd the Lord — 

Ter merakerlously clienge 'em ter salt 
The cheaper ter cure his fresh cod ; 

Then in faith he erose from his marrers. 
And his sinful tamp'rin' with God ! 



Bob Mdnn of Cape Cod. 



21 



Now Bob Munn in his foUj expected 

On rejinin' his guests ter find 
The work he'd mapped out for the Master, 

Perforra'd by His Infernite mind. 




But not so. On reachin' the tea-drinkers, 
Whar he trusted ter git his wish, 

No pillars of salt war thar ; but harf of 
Munn?s carcass war cheng\I ter a fif<h! 



22 Bob Munn of Cape Cod. 

Bob Munn soon diskiver'd it war wrongful, 
And, chagrinM tuk ter the water : 

Becomin' an amphibious anermal. 
The first mermaid war his daughter. 

Two centuries have pars'd away since then ; 

The mermaids have multerplied, 
And, old mariners say, it all comes from 

Lovin' fish premerturely dri'd ! 

And, although I won't vouch for it, they say 
This is why the Yankees like cod, 

Car'fully season'd, and salted and cur'd 
By the means pervided by God. 

But the moral — ye see it war sinful 
Ter tempt the Almighty ter fast ! 
' And this story wdll show ye how Ue got ' 
The lest of that Yankee at last ! 



Bob Munn of Cape Cod. 



23 



Whenever ye hear tell of a mermaid 
Be warn'd by the sin of poor Bob, 

Who attempted ter stock the kerds upon 
His Maker, but — botch'd the job ! 




^Y IeRLIGION. 




8> 



I DO not gamble much on Eerligion, 
S)|J Kor sliow a sanctermonioiis look 

Down here under my hat when they mention 
The Bible — tliat spiritu'l book — 

"What's a guide-board ter every stray traveler 
In the pathway leadin' ter God ; 

I do not clasp my hands in dervotion, 
And at the church minister nod, — 



My Eerligion. 25 

Extollin' Ills favorite utterances ; 

J^orjlne in the fervent "Amen," 
That the folks in the meetin' may think me 

One of them most pious laymen. 

l^or go down on my marrers durin' pr'ar, 

Raise my eyes ter Heaven and cry 
Ter God ter pour out His Holy Spirit, 

And bless me with grace from on High ! 

In meetin' I do not yell out " Glory!" 
" Bless the Lord who died for sinners !" 

" Come down, dear Jesus ; I'll clasp ye right here !" 
Nor 'nvite the parson ter dinners. 

I've sarch'd from Gen'ses ter Reverlation 

For a precerdent, but I can't 
Find that Christ and His Erpostles have spent 

The Sabbath in boisterous rant ! 



26 



My Herligion. 



The knees of my Sabbatli mornin' trousers 
May not show same ermount of war' 

As those of Deacon Horatio Sparling , 
Who's worn holes in his'n at pra'r. 



/M^ 




I may not show the white of my eyes^ lilce 
The Deacon who loohsfor rerwardr 

For countin' the vAimher of the rarfters^ 
When they far s the cup of the Lord ! 



My Eerligion. 

I am not in tlie habit of tellin' 

Sinners they'll be left in the lurch, 

In the last great day when Jerhover comes, 
If thar not members of the church ! 

Or skeerin' 'em with brimstone and fire, 
And the vengeance of thar Maker, 

If they turn thar backs on the Pascal Lamb, 
And fail ter be a pertaker ! 

I do not prerclaim ter all my neighbors 
WhoVe not bow'd down in corntrition 

And jin'd the meetin', that they've cartejly 
A through ticket ter perdition ! 

That when the Lord shall come in His glory, 

If thar not as pure as snow. 
He will hurl His hot bolts of wrath at 'em, 

And tell 'em ter git up and go ! 



28 My Eeeligion. 

That when the ran'som'd have enter'd in, 

With the Lord tor thar final rest 
In Heaven, and have put on the white robes 

Emblermatical of the Blest — 

The guilty sinner will be shunted orf 

Ter lakes of sul-furious fires 
"Whar murderers, burgulars and drunkards 

Pursue thar unlicens'd desires. 

It is true I do not wrench from the poor 
Part of the proceeds of thar sweat, 

That mj name may look large on subscriptions, 
And that I may complerments get ! 

And be known as a great pherlanterpist 
"When they pars the corlection plate, 

That receives money wrung from a hr other ^ 
Or filcli d from his orphan^ s er state ! 



My Keeligion. 29 

O, no ! I will freely own up ter it : 

This sort of Rerligion don't meet 
My views of what's right — what Jesus rerquires 

Of all what come near ter His seat. 

My idea of Christianity 

Is of quite a different type, 
And all them supercillious ranters 

Who think for the Harvest thar ripe, 

That, through thar pra'r and thar false prerfession. 
They have been cleans' d of all thar sin, 

"Will find, when they apply for admission, 
They have a slim chance ter get in ! 

My Rerligion is not a prerfession 

That ^' I am holier than thou !" 
That a man can not serve his Creator 

If he don't make a saintly bow ! 



30 My Rekligion. 

The follerers of the Blessed Jesus, 

Who war cradl'd in a menger, 
Will strive ter love thar neighbor as themselves, 

And gladden the lonely strenger — 

With kindnesses what go home ter the heart 

In hour of his greatest need, 
And act the part of the Sermaritan, 

Of whom we all derlight ter read. 

I may be a sinner, and I doubt not 

Have done heaps of things that war wrong ; 

But I love the example of the Lord, 
And in secret pour out in song — 

My acknolergements for His great bounty ; 

And I strive ter keep His commands. 
What war written on tablets by Moses, 

When Jerhover guided his hands ! 



My Eeeligion. 31 

In them Commandments ye get the essence 

Of the Truth as given ter man / 
And if a poor sinner lives up ter '^m, 

And labors the hest that he can — 
JSFo mattet" if he is out of the churchy 

Whar the wicked ones are cryirt 
For mercy ! HeHl not he with the Deacon 

BluWrin^ at the gates of Zion ! 




fiTTLE i'oOTS. 




AL, neighbor, je have got me right sure 
When ye put a question like that : 
The age of my youngster—^' Little Boots/' 
So frolicksome, funny and fat ? 



The year and the day he war cradl'd 
By the nurse what waited about ; 

And stood watch over Polly jist thar, 
And heer'd his first inferntile shout ? 



Little Boots. So 

He's a brilliant pearl in our cabin — 
Is "Little Boots" — that's cartenlj true: 

But durn me if I know he war horn/ 
Maybe — like Miss Topsej — he grew ! 

Come, strenger ; bring yer cheer ter the fire. 

Here's some juice of the grape. Maybe 
Ye'll not stand upon manners jist now, 

For I've no great larnin', ye see. 

So I'll tell ye the story of " Boots"— 

Dog on'd strenge as 't may seem ter yoic ; — 

But may my ha'r be clieng'd ter black snakes 
If it is not Scripterly true ! 

Ye see, we come down ter Car'lina 
Five years ago, comin' next Fall, — 

Polly and me, and our setter dorg : 
Without a mule or beast ter haul. 



34 Little Boots. 

Here I knock'd up a little cabin, 

And skeer'd up a nigger or so, 
At odd times ter jine in the plantin', 

And a startin' the crop ter grow I 

Wal, for a time we prosper'd right smart — 
Lons: afore '' Little Boots" war born — 

But we fretted in vain for a somethin,' 
Though harvestin' cotton and corn. 

But the drought spil'd the crops, and one day— 
Leavin' Polly ter boss the help — 

I kissed her good bye, and dug out 
Ter rough it a while by myself ! 

Three years I work'd hard in the gold mines — 
'Way out in the mountains, ye see, 

Whar a feller don't have sicli comforts 
As a wife^ and a boy on the knee ! 



LiT'jXK Boots. 



35 



Wal, at last I grew rather homesick, 
And, 'thout writin' Polly a word, 

I ti'd up my kit for a journey. 

And — slop'd lor the home I prerferr'd ? 




Forty days I war comin' ter Clark's : 
A week brought me here ter the door, 

W7ien Ijpeek'd through a hole in the wall : 
^'-Little Boots** wa/r squat on the floor ! 



36 Little Boots. 

The supper war spread on tlie table, 

And Polly war ponrin' the tea 
For Tom Smart, who had dropp'd in jist then 

Ter hear if she'd got word from me. 

]^ow, Tom Smart war an old friend of our'n, 
Who had shown much friendly corncern 

In Polly and me, and, heaps of times, 
Had render'd a neighborly turn ! 

But, ter come ter the pint ; I cornfess, 

I chuck'd my rerligion erside ! 
And when they decla'r'd this boy war mine, 

I cussed 'em, and told 'em they lied ! 

For, stranger, I'd been away three years 
From Polly and home, yet, forsooth. 

The youngster they tried ter palm on me, 
Had only jist cut his first tooth ! 



Little Boots. 37 

But Polly, she Idss'd me so kind-like, 
Aud prertested that she had been true, 

Tliat I tuk "Little Boots" termy arms, — 
Why, strenger, what else could I do ? 

Since then I've been thinkin' it over: 
How this youngster chanc'd inter life, — 

Durn me, if I don't fear it's the fault 
Of Tom Smart and Polly, my wife ! 

I don't like ter suspicion my Polly 

Who's jist now appearin' in view ; 
But, somehow, I don't thiiik it's nat'ral 

That our •' Boots" should come thus. Do 3^011 ? 

However, Pll not fret erbout ti : 

Say nothin' ; my wife's at the door : 

But one thing take note on : — We^re happy, 
And — ^Tom Smart don't come here no more ! 



38 Little Boots. 

Now that is the whole histiy of '* Boots," 
A plaguey quar case. It's not clear ! 

How this bo J can be mine I can't guess, 
Or how in the world he reach'd here ! 

But he's Polly's, that's carten and sure, 
And I admit him inte my heart, 

Although he bars a strikin' rersemblance 
Ter that Tar-heel known as Tom Smart ! 




f HE fuZZIN' §EES OF §ERKS. 




OYS, ye ask me ter spin ye a story 
Of adventer by flood or field, 
Or stand for licker ter bits at the bar, — 

Ter the former, of course. Til yield ; 
For I'm rather short of greenbacks jist now, 

Havin' been out of work some time. 

So, hear goes for a yarn, but ye must not 

Make sport of my effort atrhyme— 

For in youth I had no eddercation, 
^Cept crumbs pick'd up by the way, 

A scratchin' figgers on the old school house 
Of our pedergogue, Milton Gray. 



40 The Buzzin' Beks of Bkrks. 

Of course, ye know I war one of them chaps 
What with Sherman march'd ter the sea, 

From Atlanter, the stronghold we'd captur'd, 
Ter the forts down on the 'Gechee. 

It war in Nervember we burn'd the place : 

On the seventeenth v/e cut loose 
From our base of surplies, and started orf 

Ter exercute Sherman's ruse^ 
That lie war playin' on Hood, the rebel, 

AVho'd unkiver'd his flanks ter soon, 
For he left the way cl'ar for us ter raid 

Ter Servanner or ter the moon ! 

It war on that march the ervent tuk place 

Of which I am goin' ter tell. 
Of how I ran inter a nest cf bees, . 

And thar got a foretaste of hell ! 



The Buzzin' Bees of Beeks. 41 

On the sixth day out we had got well down 

In Berks county, n'ar the borders, 
And on that ere raid, ye may bet yer pile, 

We did not car' much for orders ! 

But each man dug out upon his own hook. 

And rush'd for the front and plunder : 
N'arly all of 'em got thar full of it, 

But some of the boys went under ; 
For, ye see, thar war stray rebels erbout, 

Who would swing 'em up by the necks, 
When they cetch'd 'em totin' erway the grub — 

And hundreds parsed in thar checks ! 

In them days I war not at all skeery — 

Impressin' a mule, I lit out 
For the front, whar the bummers war raidin' 

And scourin' the country erbout — 



42 The Buzz in' Bees of Beeks. 

Stealin' chickens, or killin' hogs bv day, 
(Or goin' through a trunk, perchance ;) 

Tlien at night they would camp for ter eat 'em, 
With pickets thrown out in advance. 

They would coral thar mules in the forest, 

Unsling knapsacks and build a fire. 
Of pine logs, dry knots, or rails from the farms ; 

Then, chuck full of pork, they'd rertire 
Ter slumbers disturb'd by the dyin' squeals 

Of swine they had slaughter'd for tea, 
'Til they thought the devils had come back from 

Those Jesus druv inter the sea ! 

As I have told ye, I jin'd the bummers 
With my mule, my gun and canteen. 

And the days that I roam'd about with 'em 
War the jolliest I have seen ; * 



The Buzzin' Bees of Berks, 43 

But as we pars'd out of Berks one mornin', 

Far erhead of the " acorn" corps, 
We soon diskiver'd a fine old homestead. 

And a fair young gal in the door. 

Now while I did not do any stealin', 

And paid cash for all I seized, 
If thar's one thing I love it is wimin. 

And, if thar pretty, I am pleas'd ; 
And when I saw more than a dozen bee hives 

Lercated right thar in the yerd. 
And the boys goin' quickly ter wards 'em, 

I felt that it war mighty hard. 

I spurr'd up my mule, and then prertested 
E'ot one should be tak'n from thar ; 

But the fellers jist snickered right out, 
And told me ter go comb my ha'r — 



44 The Buzzin' Bees of Berks. 

And dry up, for tliey would have them hives 

If they had ter eat bees berside, 
And if I did not like it I could jist 

Crawl out ot my pesky old hide. 

Objections war no use erbout them days; 

And, like a cornsumate old fool, 
I drew rein at the gate ef the house, and 

Watch'd 'em from the back of my mule. 
Then them soldiers made a sortie on the bees 

"With thar ponchos, and tuk 'em quick 
Ter the stream near by whar they drowned them. 

And lifted the hives from the creek. 

While this war doin' I sat on that mule, 

Till Dick Mullens upset a hive. 
And a swarm of mad bees came tearin' out. 

And, soarin' around, made a dive 



The Buzzin' Bees of BeekSo 4:5 

Eight sqiiar for my mule ; they lit on his flanks, 
And his neck, his ears and back : — 

He rear'd and snorted, threw his head in air, 
Then quickly tuk a le'ard tack ! 

And erway on a fearful race he broke 

Over fences, lorgs, ditches and rocks, 
Headin' for the water nnder the hill — 

He near shook me out of my socks ! 
On his break-neck race for that brook berlow 

It war needless ter pull on the rein. 
For that ugly mule war dead set upon 

Gittin' rid of his bitin' pain ! 

"With me the siteration war quite bad — 
That mule's hide war thicker than mine ; 

And when they lit on me I iit a while : 
Then foller'd the mule's bee line ! 



46 



The Buzzm' Bees of Berks. 



We reacli'd the creek — ^ye may not berlieve it- 
But that mule went down on his knees 

In that ere stream, and rolPd over on me, 
Jist ter rid himself of the bees ! 




The muddy water war full four feet deep, 
And I came quite n'ar bein' drown'd, 

As with the old mule I lattVd thar^ 

With the hees what war huzzin' ^ round ! 



The Buzzin' Bees of Berks, 

I shall never forget that frisky brute, 
What flounder'd erbout and shook 

Them ere bnzzin' insects from orf his ears, 
And danced like mad in the brook, — 

One minute he lay flat upon his back — 

The next halanced^ on his fores, 
With his tail stuck out, and JcicJcin like mady 

As the lees fell on him hy scores ! 
Wal, while this battle war ergoin' on 

'Twixt the bees and the valiant mule, 
I had a chance ter crawl up ter the bank— 

Don't say that my action war cru'l — 

For the critter war much better prepar'd 
With his tail ter banish his foes, 

While I had not a durn'd thing erbout me 
Ter aid him the battle ter close. 



48 The Buzzin' Bkes of Berks. 

I had Lad quite ernougli of that skirmish, 

And erwaj up the hill I run 
As quickly as my shanks would carry me, 

In sarch of mj knapsack and gun. 

When I had found iheni I war satersfied, 

And did not rernew the ertack 
On them wild bees ; but, boys, I'm not carten 

£tU that mule still lies o?i Ids hack 
Erway down thar in JBevhs conntij , fightiw 

The dercendents of them mad lees 
What that day swarm' d out of that Irolmi him ! 

That's the yarn /—Who's treat is it, please ? 



tmv%^ 




f HAT flTTLE f LACK |eT OF luR'N. 



LDEE, quite a good story is that 
Ye read from the Bible ter-daj, 

Of how that truant, surnam'd Jonah, 
Succeeded in findin' his way 
Ter the mouth of that erbligin' whale. 

What tuk him in out of the wet, 
And enter tain'd him three days and nights, 
Whar thar's free erpartments ter let ! 

'Pears ter me, that whale war kind-hearted 
Ter render sich an act ; I'm sure 

Most lan'lords would jist tell him ter git 
Mighty quick away from thar door — 



50 



That Little Black Pkt of Ouk'n. 



If he'd not the spondulicks ter pay 
For liis meals, Ins wasliin' and bed 

But this generous whale surplied all, 
And never tax'd Jonah a red ! 




Do ye think ye could find a lan'lord 
In these days as kind as that whale, 

^Y7lat opened Ms mouth and cix'd Jiim in 
When the sea war r'unnin a gale ! 



That Liti'le Black Pet of Ouu'n. 51 

I guess ye'd look a long wliile, Elder, 

Ter find one in this ere big State, 
"Who would not a cuss'd right smart at him, 

And left Mr. J. ter his fate. 

Elder, I've been thinkin' it over, 

And, dog on it ! I cannot see 
How that story can be at all true ; 

But as you say so, it must be : 
For ye teech us ter berlieve each word 

What is writ for our edderfecation, 
Ter turn poor sinners ter Jesus Christ, 

And rescue 'em from damnation ! 

I'll take the yarn, as the whale tuk in 

Mr. Jonah, without any doubt; 
But, years ago, an ervent tuk place, 

What I will tell ye all erbout — 



62 That Little Black Pet of Our'n. 

And if ye don't say, it matches your'n 

Mv name is not Pherlander Lee : 

t/ 

It tuk place when I war rarftin' lorgs, 
Years ago, upon the Suanee, — 

With Ashley Cole, Will Starks and Ed. Flynn, 

And a dozen or more, maybe. 
Of lumbermen, who work'd all day at 

Ermanuel labor with me. 
We anchor'd our rarft n'ar Cedar Keys, 

And squatted down berside the stream 
One evenin', and after supper dropp'd orf 

Ter slumber, ter rest and dream — 

Of wives and children we'd left erbove 

In the pineries days berfore ; 
And now, worn out with lerborious toil. 

We quickly bergan for ter snore. 



That Little Black Pet of Our'n. 63 

Ter keep the flies orf we built a fire, 

And Fanny, my little black dorg, 
That I thought a mighty sight of, sir, 

Doubl'd up ter snooze on a lorg — 

A few yards from the fire. A sharp yelp 

Woke me from my dreams, and, springin' 
Right out of my cot, I hurried orf 

Whar the cries of my Fanny war ringin' 
On the air, as an allergater 

In his jaws had cru'lly caught her, 
And war makin' right orf with my pet, 

Ter his young 'ns in the water ! 

Seizin' a club, I feller'd right fast 

After the stealthy, thievin' brute ; 
But the night w^ar dark, and the critter 

Successfully bafiied pursuit ! 



54 That Little Black Pet of Our'n. 

My dorg war gone : 'twar no use frettin* 

O'er raid of that allergater, 
What had sneak'd my pet from orf that lorg, 

And, I doubted not, had ate her ! 

She did not come back ter tell the tale 

Of how she had been sneak'd away. 
And 1 mourn'd her as lost ter me forever, 

And — had not a word ter say. 
But, Elder, that war n't the last 1 saw 

Of that little black pet of our'n, 
For two months later, w^hen w^e'd come down 

Agin, and one day war scourin' — 

Erbout for game, in a swamp n'ar by 
The slimy thief I once more saw ! 

Liftin' my rifle, 1 lodg'd a ball 
Right under his uplifted jaw. 



That Little Black Pet of Our'n. 55 

In them days I war reckon'd a shot, 

And, ye may bet, the critter died: 
Then over on his back we turn'd liim, 

And bergmi ter rermove his hide. 

While this war doin' I heer'd a bark 

Of a dorg, what appear'd quite near ! 
'Twar so much like Fanny's, with my sleeve 

I— jist brush'd from my cheek a tear ! 
Wal, when we had cut the varment open— 

Ye won't berlieve it, but it's true 
As any story I've ever told. 

My Fanny jump'd squar inter view ! 

Then, arter her came three pretty purps— 

Exact picters of thar mother ! 
We ply'd our knives agin in the flesh, 

And then unkiver'd another ! 



) That Little Black Pet of Our'n. 

Ye see, I had rerkiver'd my pet, 

What brought back a numerous crop 

Of young dogs ; now if I hain't match'd ye, 
"Why, Elder, I'll gen'rously stop ! 

But, wait a bit ; a few more inches 
We come ter somethin' kinder hard. 

That our sharpest blades would not go through. 
And then old Samuel Bard 

Pick'd up a hatchet and whack'd erway 
Until he came ter some spruce lorgs^ 

Thaty heiii' u7iHver^d, der splayed ter view 
- y!he hennel of them little dorgs / 




^ 



LD f OM |lN. 




"SMILE" is it, Hank Eowland, 

Ye invite me ter take, 
At the bar of Pete Moody, 

Jist for the old time sake. 

And ter keep me erwake? 
A smile of th' distillation 

Of hell that is call'd Gin,— 
The nectar of the devils ! 

The vile parent of sin, 

What many waller in ? 



58 Old Tom Gin. 

I don't like ter 'pear Tensive, 
My friend Hank, but jist think 

The temptation ye set me 
When ye ax me ter drink ! 
!N"o, no ! from it I shrink ! 

Time war when a poor toper 
I reel'd erbout the place, 

A wretched victim of rum. 
That so many embrace 
Ter thar lastin' disgrace ! 



Hank, I'll tell ye a story 
What's call'd ter my mind 

When I come any whar n'ar 
This great curse of mankind 
With which stomachs are lin'd ! 



Old Tom Gin. 59 

It makes me blush for the past, 

The 'nebriate I've been, 
When I think of the enemy — 

The inciter ter sin — 

They have christen'd " Tom Gin." 

When I war marri'd, Hank Rowhind, 

A likelier young chap 
Ye couldn't find anywhar 

This side Cumberland Gap, 

For I tuk no " night cap." 
My wife, she war a Christian, 

And a true wife war she ; 
And God rain'd down His blessin's 

On Malinder and me, 

With a hand that war free. 



60 Old Tom Gin. 

She bore me three fine children — 
Two fair gals and a boy — 

Whose soft chirrupin' voices 
Fiird the cabin with joy 
And love without erloy. 

When the honeymoon pars'd 
And love seem'd ter grow cold, 

I stray'd down ter the tavern,- 
Thar squander'd my gold, 
And nerglected the fold — 

Whar my sunny-ha'r'd treasurs 
Gather'd 'bout my wife's side, 

As she teech'd 'em of the Lord 
Who on Calvary died, 
And for orphans pervide. 



Old Tom Gin. 61 

As she told them of Heaven, 

And repeated that pra'r 
Of the Sevior of the world — 

So erquented with car' — 

They never saw me thar ! 

Hank Rowland, I'm ershem'd 

Ter admit it ; but, still, 
It may do another good 

Ter warn him of what'll kill, 

And I swow that I will ; 
For, ye see, thar is many 

Jist like me 'round here 
Turnin' erway from thar homes 

When the smiles diserpear, 

'Cause thar wedded ter beer ! 



62 Old Tom Gin. 

Wal, down here ter the tavern, 
As a matter of course 

I found many good fellers 
"Who'd not any rermorse, 
And did not seem advarse 

Ter a toddy or a smoke, 
A yarn or a story, 

Of Ingen fights on the Plains, 
And conflicts quite gory, 
In sarcli of mere glory. 

Hank, them times war attractive, 
And I drank like the rest ; 

As months pars'd it grew on me, 
Till I swigg'd w^ith the best — 
Pour'd it down with a zest. 



Old Tom Gin. 63 



Then reelin' home late at night 
The little ones would creep 

Erwaj ter Merlinder's room 
"With thar mother ter weep 
In vain effort ter sleep ! 



As years pars'd I grew keerless — 
My farm went ter the duce — 

And I hurPd at my treasures — 
Thinkin' I had excuse — 
Yile curses and erbuse ! 

One night I went home much later 
And prepar'd ter rertire ; 

In my drink I upset the lamp — 
Then the house war afire, 
And my terror war dire ! 



64 Old Tom Gin. 

I stagger 'd out ter the yard 

And call'd for help. Ter late ! 

They got out all my children 
But baby — little Kate — 
Who met a dreadful fate ! 

The next mornin', when sober'd, 
I found my infant dead, — 

Her body charr'd and blackened — 
Her death war on my head ! 
My love for whisky fled ? 

Berside that rough pine coffin 
I knelt me down and wept, 

And register'd a vow thar, 
Whar little Katey slept, 
Hank Rowland, 1 have kept ! 



Old Tom Gik. 65 

'Twar this : never ter tench it — 
This stuff they have nam'd Gin, 

What's draggin' others ter whar 
I, findin' out my sin, 
Rerfus'd ter suck it in ! 



A smile is it, Hank Rowland, 
Ye invite me ter take. 

At the bar of Pete Moody, 
Jist for the old time sake. 
And ter keep me erwake ? 

No, Hank, none of it for me ! 
'Twould make the engels groan 

Ter see me touch it. I pars ! 
(Rather be cheng'd ter stone) 
Jist run the hand alone ! 



|hE f IGN of foE §ALL 




^D Colby, yer noted for yer stories 

K 

What are marvelous, while thar true, 
And I know ye'll relish a good one, 
So I will rercite it ter you. 

A few nights ago I kinder crav'd for 
A small morsel of sassage meat, 

And, jist seizin' my hat from the mantel, 
I hurri'd out inter the street. 



The Sign of Joe Ball. 67 

At the shop of Joe Ball I diskiver'd 

Some what look'd superbly nice ; 
The stamps war put down, and them sassages 

War mine at a nomernal price. 

I carri'd them ter my house in triumph, 
Without gettin' scratch'd in the least, 

And, sev'rin' some, waited for daylight 
Ter enjoy a savory feast. 

I war up with the crow of the rooster. 

And went for my sassages straight. 
I be gol durn'd if one wasn't purrin', 

And rubbin' himself 'gin the gate ! 

Another had crawl'd ter the parlor, 
Whar he crouched down and purr'd. 

And wistfully watch'd a wire cage 
Whar slumber'd my favorite bird ! 



68 The Sign of Joe Ball. 

Two others I found in the coal cellar, 

Anxiously lajin' for rats : 
While another had her head in a pitcher 

Whar wife kept the milk for the cats ! 

I next look'd erbout for the balance, 
And, an oath Ithar gave vent ter. 

Though thar tails war tied they war creepin' 
Erwav from a common center ! 

I survey'd 'em, and they look'd at me 
From out thar harf-closed eyes, 

As one of 'em told me that thar mother 
Had been chopp'd up inter pies. 

The poor little orphans implor'd me 
Thar infantile lives ter spar' ; 
ut I had sich a feline mernagerie, 
That I flatly rerfus'd thar pra'r. 



The Sign of Joe Ball. 69 

That mornin' I miss'd my fa v 'rite rerpast 

Of fried sassages, ter be sure ; 
But I had the satersfaction ter see 

The whole lot drown'd in the sewarl 

Whenever ye see the sign of Joe Ball, 

Be car'ful not ter enter his lair, 
For he prides himself upon his choice stock 

Of kitten spic'd sassage and hair. 




*<lll ^111,1, 



n 



BAEEY GEAY, Editor, 

Devoted exclusively to subjects connected with the 
Pleasures of the Table, the Science of Cooking, a7id 
the Art of Good Living, 

PLAN AND CHARACTER OF THE WORK. 
The Table will contain short essays on Break- 
fasts, Dinners & Teas, Wines, Fruits & Confections, 
It will have its Breakfast Table Chat, its Difiner 
Table Talk, and its Tea Table Gossip, 

Housekeepers and Cooks will firid in it recipes for 
the making of new, rare and savory dishes. A Bill 
of Fare, appropriate for the season, will appear in 
each number. Accounts of Public Banquets, Dinner 
Parties, etc., will be recorded in its pages. 

The form of The Table will be a large octavo, 
twenty pages to each number, 

TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION : 

One Copy for One Year, $1.00 

Single Copies, lO 

M. DOOLADY, Publisher, 

98 Nassau Street. 



A Nef, Revised, Corrected, and Illustrated Edition 

OF THE 

OLD MERCHANTS 

OP 

NEW-YORK CITY. 
By WALTER BARRETT, Clerk. 

•-•-• 

In 3 Vols., Crown 8vo, Cloth Extra. Price, $1.50. 

Of this work it is truly said " that no more interesting 
reading can be found for the growing MERCANTILE 
mind of the United States than a history of the LEADING 
MEN who have laid the foundations of the wealth and 
prosperity of its great METROPOLIS." 

" Valuable as a book of reference." 

THIS BOOK CAN NOT FAIL TO BE 

INTERESTING TO EVERY BUSINESS MAN. 

IT CONTAINS 

UPWARD OF 2000 PROMINENT NAMES. 

Agents wanted to Sell in all parts of the Country. 

M. DOOLADY, Publisher, 

98 Nassau Street. 



Tlie most interesting anJ tlrilling Book of tie day. 



PERILS OF THE PERIOD! 

A THRILLING BOOK OF FACTS! 

By JOSEPH HERTFORD. 



Trice, Taper, 50 cents; Clotli, ^l.OO. 



O OnSTTEIsTTS. 



At Niblo's by Gaslight. 
In a Villain's Toils. 
Temptations of Hotel Life. 
A Bust for Ten Cents. 
The Perils of Beauty. 
A Meeting by Appointment. 
Fashionable Society. 



Grace Church Morality. 

Crime in Pantalets. 

Striking Pen Portraits. 

A Private Post-Offlce. 

The Amorous Epistle of a Judge. 

A Woman in Man's Attire. 

Fifth Avenue Belles. 



From the Heights of Morality to the Rocks of Death. 



These are some of tlie subjects and incidents treated in 
this startling record of facts. They are unpleasant exam- 
ples of vice, error, and criminal guilt, leading souls from 
the pinnacle of morality to the degrading depths of sin and 
ruin ; and a complete expose of some of the pernicious 
characters which stalk through this great city, by day and 
night alike. Fathers, Mothers, Brothers, all should read it. 



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